


The Knave And The King

by CalamityCain



Category: Marvel, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Addiction, Alternate Universe - Human, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Butt Plugs, Dark Thor (Marvel), Gags, Gambling, M/M, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Rough Sex, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-07-01 00:40:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15763056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalamityCain/pseuds/CalamityCain
Summary: Loki's gambling addiction -- and the mistake of being in debt to the dangerous, powerful Thor Odinson -- leads him into a sticky situation where the only currency he has left is his own body. And whatever Thor chooses to do with it.





	The Knave And The King

**Author's Note:**

  * For [citizenjess (givehimonemore)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/givehimonemore/gifts), [patientalien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/patientalien/gifts).



> (featuring dark!Thor who is NOT the good pure ray of sunshine we know and love, but still hot i guess)
> 
> P.S. I blame most of this on the promo posters of Chris Hemsworth in Bad Times At The El Royale

In the familiar narrative of the silver screen, the prodigy trains an eagle eye on the dice and deck, card-counting and capturing the impossible with a photographic memory, then lets the chips fall where they may and scoops up the house’s winnings to the euphoric beat of a victory song. The one who beats the system. Heroes of the young and hungry. Legends of Macau and Monte Carlo and anywhere Lady Luck pretends to reign supreme.

 

This is not that story. This is Loki’s. And his luck has run out.

 

The noose came for him in the form of fingers clamping down on his slim neck, leaving him just enough breath to say yes. And none left to say otherwise. It came in the hulking form of Thor Odinson, to whom he had made the mistake of owing money. And who agreed that money was not the only currency in this world.

 

There was always, he said, the currency of flesh.

 

Loki wondered if he would be bent over the velvet green of the poker table or be forced to take it up the ass while faced with the dizzying blur of the roulette wheel. Mocked by the lipstick-laced luck of a long cool lady blowing on dice, by Brut-laced bowties and callous men with money to spend whose cocks he would have sucked if it meant he could escape the inexorable iron hand steering him like a lost boat at sea into ever deeper, darker depths.

 

“You look like a kinky little thing,” said the deep rumble of a voice. “Up for anything and anyone, no? I’m sure we can make this fun for the both of us.”

 

Loki attempted a seductive smile. “Why don’t we go to my roo – ”

 

He was cut off when the hand not gripping his arm silenced his mouth as he was slammed against the nearest pillar – an offensive frenzy of pseudo-baroque curlicues bruising his back – half his face painfully smothered by the massive hand. “You are in no position to negotiate.” Menace dripped from the man’s hot breath. “Do I make myself clear?”

 

“Mmmh,” Loki whimpered.

 

The thunder left his eyes, and Thor smiled broadly. He put an arm around Loki’s shoulder as if they were a couple headed for the bar. Loki doubted he would be granted the mercy of a stiff drink where they were going.

 

Just before they turned a corner, he felt a blindfold slither over his eyes, turning his world black. He knew better than to protest as Thor knotted the fabric firmly at the back of his head. A hand cradled his neck. Hot, soft stubble-roughened lips claimed his in a kiss.

 

“It’s a secret, where we’re going. And I can’t afford snitches like you wagging your slutty tongues.”

 

Fear made him cold as he stumbled in the dark with no choice but to go where Thor led him. The hubbub of the casino faded away as their surroundings went stone-cool and silent.

 

They were in an elevator now. Going down. After an eternity – or perhaps five seconds – an impersonal _ding_ told him they had arrived.

 

The sliding of the doors seemed to mark some dreaded finality. His throat closed up as his eyes stung with tears that dampened the tight blindfold. “I assure you, I’m worth more to you alive than dead,” he said in a barely-steady voice.

 

Thor chuckled. “I agree: you're much more enjoyable living and breathing." His fingers curled once more around Loki’s arm, less crushing than before. "So let's try and keep it that way, alright?"

 

His next words tickled Loki’s ear, as intimate as a lover’s. “Now strip.”

 

“Wh-what?”

 

“Take off your clothes.”

 

“All of them?”

 

There was a metallic click that froze the very blood in his bones. The steel barrel pressed into the nape of his neck. “Take ‘em off, baby. Or they’re going to get dirty with your brains.”

 

With shaking hands he shed his tailored jacket, his impeccably fitted slacks; taking forever to unbutton his shirt, the movements of his fingers a skittish dance, their tips numb with fear. Shoes next, then socks.

 

He hesitated at the tight black briefs, biting his lips nearly bloody.

 

“Please don’t,” he found himself begging.

 

Hs faint hope for the man’s mercy was crushed when the barrel was shoved into his mouth, brushing the back of his throat. “The terms of your freedom – and your life – are clear,” Thor whispered almost tenderly, at odds with the forceful bulk curled around Loki’s slender frame like a python. “You do what I say. I let you walk free. You disobey me, and you will regret doing so for a very short time.” The gun pushed deeper in, making him gag. “Do we have an understanding?”

 

_“Ynnngh,”_ he sobbed around the hard metal. A salty trickle slipped past the blindfold and down his cheek.

 

“Good boy. Hey, hey. Don’t cry.” Once Loki was completely naked, Thor caressed his face and wiped his tears with rough, warm fingers. Hands that were unafraid of getting dirty. “You’re so pretty, you know that? Come on, baby.” He guided Loki into a room where the air smelt of leather and disinfectant. After about ten paces, Loki felt his legs bump into what felt like a firm cushioned table.

 

“Up you go now.” Thor lifted his legs, swung them onto the leather surface. “Lie down.”

 

There was nothing else to do but obey. He had never felt so vulnerable in his life. His breaths grew hitched, every muscle tense and trembling.

 

“You need to relax, baby. Here.” The blindfold was removed, and Loki was staring up at a blank white ceiling. It was the only white thing in the room; everything else was in shades of black and red and polished wood, sinister glints of steel in between. The lighting, he supposed, could be described as tasteful: just bright enough to illuminate the goings-on about to take place, shadows lending a soft contrast he would have appreciated under different circumstances.

 

He struggled only a little when the leather straps encircled his wrists, pinning them inches from his hips. His lower body was given less dignity – legs pried apart and locked into place with a heavy spreader bar.

 

“Perfect.” Thor stood over him, smiling, and for the first time he truly appreciated the heady melding of menace and raw sex appeal. The man was at least six foot two, possibly more, with shoulders like smooth immovable rock and electric-blue eyes and smirking lips that were strangely soft. In the half-light the dark gold locks straying loose from a messy ponytail framed his face enticingly. When he took off his shirt, Loki found himself breathless. Thor looked fully capable of tearing him apart without breaking a sweat. In a less perilous situation he would have found this terribly attractive.

 

“We used to own this place, my father and I. Before the old man gave everything up to retire on a paradise island for old codgers. But I’m glad this place is still intact.” He smiled wistfully as if recalling halcyon childhood haunts instead of what could only be described as a sex dungeon.

 

Thor slipped from his sight for a few seconds. When he came back, there was something gleaming in his hands. Loki gulped at the familiar shape – and at its size, which was significantly larger than anything he had ever experimented with.

 

“I’m going to get you ready for me, baby. Stretch you out a little.”

 

A fresh wave of tremors pulled his nerves taut as violin strings. There was no escaping it, his inevitable rape. Of course, one could say he had agreed to this. He had sealed his own fate by chasing his addiction across blackjack tables to the siren song of tumbling chips. And now he would have to play the only hand he was left with. Which was not much of a hand at all.

 

_Be gentle with me,_ he was tempted to say when Thor’s thick fingers prodded, then penetrated his hole, mercifully coated with lube. Although he would surely need plenty more to accommodate what was to come, if every part of Thor was as huge as what he could see. Would playing the weeping virgin move this man? Probably not. His pathetic tears earlier had only seemed to add to Thor’s enjoyment. When the plug began to breach his hole, he couldn’t help but whimper a little – fear only tensing his muscles, making the entrance hurt more.

 

“Breathe, babe. You’ll be glad for this when it’s time to fuck you good and proper.” The plug slid in all the way, its base pressed snugly against his ass cheeks. “Now what do you say?” A smack on his hip made him wince. “What do you say to daddy? _Hmm?”_

 

Loki drew a shuddering breath. “Th-thank you, daddy.”

 

“Good boy. You’ve done this before, haven’t you? Uh-uhh – don’t shake your head like that. You’re a filthy liar, Loki Laufeyson.” Thor stroked his lips tenderly, then insistently, prying his lips open. “I’m going to teach you how to better use this mouth of yours.”

 

He felt the smooth twist of a lever, and then his head was thrown back as the top of the cushioned table disappeared. The room was turned upside down. At least, what he could see of it that wasn’t obstructed by Thor’s sex – pushed suddenly into his view, warm and pulsing and alarmingly large.

 

The fingers that had nearly crushed his upper arm earlier now clamped on his jaw, just hard enough to hint at what might happen if he did cooperate. Loki did not need to be told. He knew what he had to do.

 

“You were born to suck cock, baby. I hope you remember that, the next time you run into trouble and need to pay your way out.”

 

To that, Loki had no answer. Not with his mouth so full – the man was _thick_ – and with Thor’s foreskin bumping the back of his throat, forcing from him tears and choking sounds. In such a position he was nothing more than a sheathe for that marvellously shaped cock. One that had no qualms about thrusting deep and fast enough to guarantee a sore throat the next day. Thor gripped his hair to keep his head perfectly in place and seemingly relished his increasingly desperate struggles for breath before pulling out. He coughed and inhaled frantically. The taste of Thor’s sex felt imprinted on his very senses, salty pre-come trickling down his oesophagus.

 

“Ready for more?”

 

The grip on his hair tightened. Loki’s pleading whine was cut short as his mouth was once more reduced to a fuck-hole. Hot fluid mixed with drool began to dribble downward, painting his cheekbones with viscous streaks.

 

“You’re good at this. It’s what you’re into, hmm?” Thor drew out again and held his mouth open so it formed a wet ‘O’, unable to form words. With his head hanging in such a position, the increased flow of blood making him dizzy, he felt about as mindless a toy as Thor could wish. The best fucktoys, after all, were those you could fuck the fight out of. Loki recalled one of his former partners telling him that while pounding him in a bathroom stall of a swanky hotel.

 

He had come from old money, had Loki’s last hookup. Not at all like Thor. No, Thor’s money was laced with cigarettes and blood, the casino he used to rule its glitzy law-abiding front. And here in this hidden pleasure den, he was still king.

 

Just as he thought his jaw would snap, the fingers released him. The surface where his head had rested was restored, the world slowly righting itself again as he blinked up at the white ceiling once more. But Thor was not quite done with his mouth. A large leather phallus, terribly realistic in shape and fleshy firmness, was dangled in his face. It was attached to a broad strap with silver buckles.

 

Loki squirmed in his bonds. Truth be told, he had a strong oral fixation, and he was not unfamiliar with such devices. But never in such a shape, and one almost as large as Thor’s own sex to boot.

 

“Open up, baby. I’m gonna fill you from both ends, and you’re going to like it.”

 

Loki’s eyes strayed to a table nearby where a glint caught his attention. The gun he had to keep Thor from having a reason to use. A new rush of fear filled him as the dildo gag pushed its way past his teeth, the strong leather filling his senses, and the wide strap was fastened behind his head. He gasped when Thor pulled the buckles tight. Despite loathing how vulnerable he felt silenced as well as bound, he couldn’t help salivating a little. His mouth felt so _full._ And the discomfort did not prevent his cock from twitching, aroused for the first time since this whole charade had begun.

 

“Does it feel good? A bit uncomfortable, I’ll bet, but you’ll live.” His face received a playful slap.

 

_“Mmnngh.”_

 

“That’s what I like to hear.” Thor pushed at the base of the butt plug, making him gasp and twitch as his prostate was tickled just right. A few more times he did this, prodding and twisting gently, until Loki could no longer keep from writhing in arousal, short sharp exhalations audible from behind the gag.

 

It was both relieving and frustrating when the plug slid out with a wet slick sound. He felt empty now, and unfulfilled, clenching around air. It did not make him any less nervous about being speared by his captor’s intimidating girth, but perhaps it would make things easier.

 

The man’s smug grin was infuriating as he stroked his cock lazily to smear it with lubricant, as if showing off in front of Loki. But just as he thought he knew exactly what was coming, Thor pulled another trick from his personal pleasure arsenal. Loki found his legs being lifted into the air, the spreader bar hooked to a pulley that lifted it until his ass was hovering about an inch above the surface. With his legs parted so, he was utterly exposed – and utterly helpless to stop Thor’s imminent assault.

 

The cockhead teased his hole. A stubble-laced kiss brushed his thigh. Then Thor plunged right in.

 

_“Nnggffhh!”_

 

The man fucked like a piston, rutting relentlessly in full hearty thrusts with no room for Loki to get used to his thickness, his length, battering him down so that he could barely catch his breath. Even the sizeable plug had not prepared him for this. He struggled uselessly in the grip of the leather straps holding him down, begging for mercy in wordless muffled cries. Occasionally Thor would hit a sweet spot and his cry would melt into one of raw pleasure, a delicious drawn-out sound formed around the shapely phallus that now held dominion over his tongue. He swallowed the excess saliva that the gag stimulated, as if it too was pouring its spend into him.

 

“That’s a tight, hot hole you got, baby,” Thor panted through his movements. “I wish I could fuck that every hour of the day.”

 

Loki could only moan in reply. He had indeed always been tight – or so his previous lovers had remarked. He also gave stellar blowjobs, a skill he had developed to prevent his more ardent paramours from leaving him sore the next day.

 

With a loud groan and a particularly painful thrust, Thor spilt inside him, hot and sloppy and streaking his thighs and suspended ass with streaks that matched the traces of come on his cheeks. Dried whitish smears that mingled now with the tears he had not realised were pouring from his eyes. He drew a shuddering breath through slightly stuffy nostrils, feeling through the haze of soreness and relief the growing ache of his own ignored arousal.

 

He felt Thor lightly stroke his cock, which jumped to attention with embarrassing speed. A deep chuckle. “Naughty boys don’t get to come that fast.”

 

_But haven’t I been good?_ Loki wanted to say. _How long till I’ve paid my dues?_ He only had so many holes to abuse. How long was Thor planning to keep him here – days? A week, perhaps more? With growing dread, he realised he had failed to negotiate the terms of his repayment.

 

The deepening regret was shoved to the back of his mind, giving way to white-hot pleasure when Thor’s lips wrapped themselves around his cock. It drew from him a new wave of stifled pleas when Thor’s tongue teased his tip and his shaft, stroking the underside, those generous lips sucking and withdrawing until he was leaking desperately and as swollen as he had ever been.

 

“You taste good, baby. I could milk you dry. Or leave you begging for it. What’ll it be?”

 

“Mmmnnggh…mmmffhh. Nnnnhh!!”

 

He looked down to see Thor’s head peeking from between his spread, suspended legs, long dark-gold hair tickling his thighs, the tips mingling with the dark down of his nether regions that now glistened thick with pre-come. The heady sight of Thor’s mouth milking his cock steadily was almost too much. He sobbed in a useless attempt to thrust his hips upward and meet the relief denied him. Indeed, Thor was even better than him at this particular skill. Knowing just where to apply pressure and how to hit the sensitive areas and to swirl that dextrous tongue in a way that made Loki see stars.

 

When he finally resumed sucking, it took mere seconds for Loki to climax with a guttural cry. Thor’s mouth left his shaft just before it spilt all over his stomach and thighs and dripped copiously onto the leather surface beneath.

 

He felt his legs freed from the pulley and the shackles, free to move at last albeit too shaky from his orgasm to do anything but lie there like limbs of stone. The gag was unbuckled and pulled off gently. Barely had the mock phallus left his mouth when Thor’s fingers replaced it, coated with his fluids.

 

“Suck,” came the command. At this point in the game, obedience came as naturally as breathing. Thor fed Loki his own come repeatedly, till nothing was left but a thin sticky film on his belly. He lapped it up without complaint.

 

“Good boy.” Thor grinned, patted his cheek, then started to unbuckled the straps binding his wrists. His chest felt light with sudden relief. “I’ve paid my dues,” he croaked. “We’re done, right?”

 

He rose shakily, swinging his legs to the floor, as Thor poured them both a glass of bourbon. He responded to the man’s raised glass by clinking his tentatively against it. Thor smiled fondly. “A toast to the paying of debts. At least, the ones you owe me.”

 

Loki swallowed. The amber liquid painted a pleasing burn down his throat. “What do you mean…?”

 

“Well, now Loki, you’ve not exactly been a good boy this year. Have you? Not to the other kind, upstanding men who were generous to you. With whom I believe you have uh, unsettled business.”

 

“Business that’s none of yours.” Loki scanned the room with his peripheral vision, searching for his clothes. He wanted to get out, and get out now. He took another nervous sip of bourbon as Thor’s smile deepened.

 

“That’s right, baby. Drink up.”

 

“I think I’ve had enough.”

 

The gun was suddenly in Thor’s hand again, pressed to his temple. “I won’t ask you again.”

 

Trembling, Loki gulped down the last of the expensive liquor. “You said I owe you nothing,” he protested shakily. “Now where’s my clothes?”

 

“Oh, you won’t be needing them just yet.”

 

“If you’re demanding another fuck, I wish to know the details and nature of it.”

 

Thor chuckled. “Bet you talked yourself out of trouble before. Only you never learn, do you, kid? Falling right back into the same trap because you can’t keep your sweet ass out of a casino. It’s too late now. Debts have to be paid eventually. And not just to me.”

 

He grasped for an answer, but his mind felt foggy. The world was moving at the wrong speed. His lips felt paralysed when he tried to form words; his eyelids were falling, and _he_ was falling, and there was nothing he could do about it.

 

There was a shattering of glass. Thor’s huge arms caught him just before he hit the floor.

 

Then he was being lifted like a child, head lolling like a rag doll’s on Thor’s shoulder. Thor’s deep voice brushed his fading consciousness. _“I’ll take care of you, baby…Don’t worry.”_ The room dropped away into darkness; or perhaps it was only him, unhinged from reality, drifting away into the abyss. The unending hell that awaited all who dared to bet their lives in the glittering kingdom where the house always won.

 

_“You’re mine now. No matter who else touches you.”_

 

What did that mean?

 

_“Mine.”_

 

 

 

He came to in a haze of low laughter and cigar-smoke coagulating in a dim chamber. “The little prince awakens,” said an all too familiar voice.

 

“More like a pauper on his last few pennies.” Mephisto’s lean craggy face grinned down at him. “Isn’t that right, Lo?”

 

The first voice spoke, raspy and deep and slow. “A gold digger. How many broken hearts did he leave behind, I wonder?” A waft of smoke blew into his face, making him cough. He felt the rub of velveteen against his bare skin. It felt as if he was lying on a poker table.

 

“For fuck’s sake, Doom, you’re getting sentimental. You always were a possessive creep.”

 

“Possessive? I merely like to safeguard my winnings.” There was the sound of tearing, then the chill of an alcohol swab against his neck. Loki tried to pull away. “What are you playing at?” His voice sounded weak, distant. Then a needle plunged into his neck. He gasped. “What – !”

 

“ _Your_ winnings? You’d do well to remember who triumphed the last round.” Mephisto snickered as he drew a card from the deck. “Surprise: _not_ the guy named Victor!”

 

“You talk too much.”

 

Loki cursed his old fling with his every breath as he tried and failed to do more than blink. The rush of icy fluid shooting through his veins had effectively cemented him in a paralysed state. One he hoped was temporary.

 

“Thor did say not to cause any lasting damage. He made it clear our little prince is under his protection now.” Mephisto downed his absinthe, refilled their glasses with the emerald-green liquid. “Guess Loki must have made an impression.”

 

“Does that make a difference to what I am due?”

 

“Well, don’t wear out the merchandise is what I’m saying.” A ringed hand squeezed Loki’s ass. “He had the luck to cross into Odinson territory. Gotta respect that.” Mephisto drew on his own cigar, watching the exhaled smoke dance over Loki’s thighs. “What would the world be without respect?”

 

Victor said nothing in reply, but stared down at him with an icy gaze in contrast with Mephisto’s animated smirk. Loki wondered just how deep the old grudge ran. If he had known they were all friends, he would never have crossed their paths.

 

Or would he? His addiction had made him reckless, and he was all out of moves. The player had become the bet. He could only watch as the game drew closer to its conclusion and wonder with dread whose victory would be the lesser of two punishments.

 


End file.
